


Oh Zhanno, My Zhanno

by ShadeDuelist



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(This is an AU-version of 'A Cold Day In Hell', more specifically all that takes place in Heavy's cabin hideout - warning, genderbent characters ahead.)</p><p>Jane Doe has just wrestled with a bear wearing nothing but her army-issue underwear and all of the honey she could get onto her.  She's tired, hungry, and dazed by the exposure to the cold.  And she's surrounded by communists and their tantalizing food!</p><p>And then she's unceremoniously introduced to one of Heavy's siblings and things turn... interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Zhanno, My Zhanno

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinuswave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinuswave/gifts), [trossidevil](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=trossidevil).



> A quick note before you begin reading! I intended to keep Misha as fem!Heavy's name but then I did some research on Russian names and Misha is a name used only for men. And there's no real female equivalent. But I also found out that Bronislava isn't strictly Russian either (it's more Polish or Baltic) so I went with a more 'western' female variant of Misha (short for Mikhail): Mika (short for Mikaila). Heavy's siblings' names are changed a little, too: Zhanna became Zhanno (because I wanted to keep that, so sue me), Bronislava became Bronislav and Yanna turned out to be the female version of Ivan so that was an easy one.
> 
> As for our fem!Soldier: Jane Doe. I thought for a second of changing it to a more masculine name (because Solly has a female name, ironically) but I kept it. Wanna know why? Read first and then I'll tell you.

She sat on the chair, the tattered remains of her bra and panties still smelling of honey and bear fur, as Mika’s father pressed a squash into the mouth of one of the babies.  Maybe the one whose neck she’d snapped so perfectly.  Really, if neck-snapping was a competition, the female soldier thought with pride, she would’ve gotten a medal!  As a matter of fact-

“Miss Doe, would you like me to get you something?  Or would you like some wine?  I could take your helmet…”, the man said kindly as he tended to the food while the Heavy Weapons Gal - Mika, what kind of pinko name was _that_ even?! - tended to the dishes, clearly portraying the dutiful daughter.  Though just how dutiful she was, and how much patience she had with the three former colleagues that had shown up on her land and had invaded her calm and quiet life reunited with her family, became obvious as she spoke from the kitchen.

“Jane, for love of God and Mother Russia, I will give you dress, please put it on.”

“Ach, Mika, eto ne chto inoye, ona prosto v shoke ot etikh medvedey. Ona vernetsya k svoim chuvstvam v blizhaysheye vremya, s nekotoroy khoroshey yedoy i nemnogo teplom kamina…”

“Ya by predpochel, chtoby ona i drugiye nikogda ne nastupit.”, the Heavy said before shaking her head and putting the carving knives in the soapy lather while her father picked up a steaming bowl of broth and walked over to the still shivering soldier.

“Miss Doe, please… I can see you are starving.  At least eat a little.”  He held out the bowl of broth to her, and Jane Doe’s hands shivered between accepting it and pushing it away.

“N-no can do, mister Heavy’s Communist father…”, she said, feeling a sweat erupt on her cheeks and palms, feeling it itch in between her dishevelled hair.  She could swear that the food was _calling out to her_.  Steeling herself, she managed to get some measure of power back into her voice, turning away from the steaming vision of perfection.  “I am from _America_ , and this broth will not nourish me!”  Then, however, the scent hit her nostrils again, a delicate aroma of tender meat and succulent vegetables and cream, and her stomach felt like it was a void rather than an empty expanse, and she could feel her hands shaking no matter how much she tried not to show how hard it was not to just shove her face into the bowl.  “I-it does smell nice…”

 _Good food always smells nice, Doe!_ The soldier looked up to see another hallucination dangle in front of her, a woman with a strong jawline and a torn skirt, looking just as dishevelled as she was.  _It is I, Molly Pitcher!  Do not relent, private, do not give in to petty weakness!  Be strong like I was!  Resist this temptation!_

 _Wait!_ , another voice rang out and another spirit joined the first woman’s, this one of a neatly coiffed and dressed woman that nevertheless looked like she had seen a lot of suffering.  _I have taught America that it doesn’t matter where the broth comes from, as long as the people it feeds have the blood of our forefathers in their veins strengthened by it!_

_Ah, true, miss Clara did teach us that… But!  But the times were different then!  I shall explain to you, Jane Doe, why you must-_

_Do not listen to her, because-_

As the turmoil in her head grew, Jane Doe gripped her helmet tighter, pulling it even further over her eyes.

 

“Mika, your comrade… I only offered her soup, and she has been screaming for five minutes…”, the father of four said nonplussed over the by now gentle whimpering of the soldier who still sat in her tattered underwear, sticking to the chairs and clutching her dented helmet with hands that shook violently.  Sighing, Mika dried her hands off and walked up to her father, patting him on the shoulder.  However, just as she meant to speak up, another scream rent the quiet of the house, this one much more violent and pained.  “Ah, your other friend screams too!  Is good, it means he is alive.”

“Will go look-”, Mika started, only to be held back by her father, who nudged his head at the stack of knives that still lay on the kitchen table.

“You clean your knives, moya milaya devochka.  Zhanno is there, he will take care of your friend.”

“ _...That is what I fear for…_ ”, Mika admitted softly, glaring at the door to the hallway, mentally telling her younger brother to behave even if she knew that was like asking Soldier not to do something stupid as strip down to her underwear, lather herself up with honey, and grapple with a bear in the middle of nowhere.

 

_“Ahh, mon grand poireau…”_

_“He grows so fast, sweetheart, ‘s like he can’t wait ta meet his mommy-”_

“AAaaaagh!  S-she ain’t my ma!  _She ain’t my ma!!_ ”  The Scout shot upright in the bed, wishing she hadn’t done so - though she still winced more due to the dream than because it hurt to move.  Looking at the window, which showed a moonless night’s sky, she sighed in relief.  “Just a dream… Jeez, gotta have a word with Spy once all’a this is over, tell her ta stay away from my dad…  Now, where tha freakin’ hell-”

“Hello, little woman.”  Scout turned her head to look at the man that had walked inside: he stood _way_ taller than her, at least a head, and was clearly one of Heavy’s siblings.  Just like the hulking Russian woman, he was all muscle and little fat, with a square jaw and small eyes; however, unlike her bulky teammate, his hair was dark and his eyes were calculating, watching her every move.  The other thing she noticed was that he wore the same kind of pyjamas she’d seen her father wear: classy, but showing off how good he looked.  And this man looked _really_ good, she could already tell.  Her mouth went dry in a heartbeat, it seemed, as he continued: “I have been prisoner of this frost and snow for twenty years, with no woman to have, but now you are here.  Tonight, we make sex.”  Instantly, a blush crept up on Scout’s cheeks, _across the rest of her body_ , she found, lighting her up like a Christmas tree.  The guy wasn’t too shabby - not her type but definitely handsome, and hell, if she heard _one more sneer_ of Spy about how only a _virgin_ could run so fast…

“Whu- I mean, hell yeah!  I am the _queen_ of sex!  Like, I pretty much rule at it.  Ya ain’t gonna find no otha gal that’s bettah!”, she said loudly, grinning from ear to ear as the man rolled his eyes.

“Not much competition in snow, but-”

“I mean, _seriously_ , I can do this all kinds’a ways!  Like, uh… _all kinds’a ways_ , man!  Howe-”  Suddenly, strong hands closed around her shoulders and she felt herself being pulled out of the bed and then, none too gently, shaken like a ragdoll.

“You speak too much!”, Zhanno said, looking thoroughly disgruntled.  “Little woman should talk less and get unclothed more!” That spurred the girl to suddenly bite her lip and look pleadingly at the man that she was about to give herself to, earning her a nod of approval as she moved to unfasten the belt that held up her slightly oversized shorts.  Then, however, she stopped as she thought of something - or rather, some _one_.

 _Hey-hey-hey-hey, sweetcheeks, what’s this?  Did you just forget about li’l ol’ me?_   The image of mister Pauling came to Scout’s mind, just like he’d been when she’d last seen him: mousy, slightly disheveled, and with that look in his eyes like the world was about to crumble at his very feet.  Only this time, it wasn’t due to her or her colleagues being in a difficult spot.

“Yeah, well, mistah Pauling, I don’t see no ring on my hands.  Assa mattah of fact, we’ve known each otha for six years - _six years, man_! - an’ ya ain’t even given me a kiss!”, she retorted mentally, to which the man nodded.

_That’s right, not even a kiss.  Because what kinda guy do girls like?  The patient guy!  And what kinda girl do guys like me like?_

“The patient girl!  Yeah, man, that’s a _classic_!”

 _Ain’t nothing sexier than a girl that can keep her hands off’a any man that crosses her path while she’s waitin’ for a guy like me._ , the mental image of mister Pauling said, and Scout nodded, the daydream fading to show Heavy’s younger brother looking at her like she’d grown an extra head.

“Well?  You get unclothed more now?!”, he said impatiently, his own pyjamas off and the only remaining shred of clothing on him a silky-looking boxershort that left precious little to the imagination, and Scout winced.  How could she ever have found two hundred pounds of Siberian-bred man more alluring than the thin, wispy, sophisticated man of her dreams?  And, more importantly, how could she ever let two hundred pounds of Siberian-bred man down gently?  Fortunately, his earlier annoyance came to mind and she sighed.

“Well, Zhanno… I don’t know how to tell you this, so I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning… y’see, there’s this guy, right?  Back when me and your sistah an’ the others…”  Vaguely, as she spoke, she was aware that the man groaned and shook his head, saying something like ‘how can little woman have so many words?!’ before moving out of the room they’d put her in.  Not that it stopped her talking.  It felt like a relief to speak about the times when she’d fallen deeper and deeper for the Administrator’s assistant, and so speak about it was what she did, even if nobody was around to listen.

 

Jane only became aware that she’d shovelled in the broth when the spoon clattered into the empty bowl and her stomach felt a little less like a void and more like a yawning chasm.  Heavy’s father had been very obliging in handing her a bear shank, and after a furtive look at the man as he spoke softly to Mika in the kitchen, she’d grabbed another one and headed to the bedrooms in search of a place to sit in peace and eat the two bear shanks with more moderation.  Also, the honey felt like goop on her stomach and her torn bra chafed, so if she could find a way to get new clothes-

“YOU.”  The word was spoken loudly and yet without the usual smattering of cursewords that usually accompanied it in her experience, causing her to look up to see a mostly naked man with short, dark hair and the slightest beard walk up to her with big strides, his boxershort shimmering in the light of the hallway with every step he took until he stood almost nose to nose with her.  He eyed her up and down, and the first thing that came to mind was that he was hungry and intended to steal her bear shanks, causing her to raise them away from him protectively.

“These are _my_ bear shanks.  _I_ will eat these bear shanks.  Both of them.  Back away now and nobody gets hurt, sir-”

“Make love to me.”, the man said, looking her dead in the eye - or trying to, at least, because the helmet was over her eyes again.  She pondered it for a moment, hunger and the faintest residue of adrenaline from fighting the bears before making her uninhibited.  He looked good, much like the army men she’d trained with in her duty even if his hair was longer and his goatee wasn’t army-sanctioned; and the way he looked at her, commandingly and with a need she certainly understood, made her feel like this man could be trusted with the sanctity of her body.  In the blink of an eye, Jane Doe decided, and then she answered with a shrug.

“Okay.”  Instantly, he pulled her off, causing her to drop the shank she’d already half-devoured on her way down the hallway: the other one was plucked off her hands and put on the table in the man’s room, which was sparsely decorated with a few pin-up posters and one or two photographs of Heavy when she was younger, cradling a boy in her arms even though he looked like he was already ten years old.  Jane saw those in a flash, impatient as the man that had pulled her away was: he herded her to his bed and pushed her down on it, nodding.

“Da, very good.  You are not full of words.  You are like Zhanno, speak only when needed.”

“Oh, yes, sir, blabbering like a fishmonger is for the weak!”, Jane chimed in, lifting her helmet just enough to peer at the man properly.  He was handsome, barrel-chested and with arms thick as her own thighs - she felt it in his hands as they slowly travelled up her hips and over her stomach.  The motion made her stomach tense ever so lightly, something that made the bowl of fragrant food she’d had before feel all the more _filling_ and making her sigh.  “Zhanno, I am full of communist broth- _ooh!_ ”  Her words ended in a sharp gasp as Zhanno grasped her bra, torn as it already was, and yanked it off her - he threw the now useless rags into a corner and grinned down at her.

“You will be full of a lot of things very soon, little woman.”, the man said, looking her over eagerly and laying down beside her, pressing his hips into her.  No matter that the man was a communist or that this was her fellow mercenary’s younger brother, the feeling of his hardening length covered only by a thin layer of silky fabric made her body _ferociously respond_ , and she shivered, grasping his head between her two strong hands and looking him dead in the eye.

“You _will_ make sweet love to me, Zhanno, and _it will be good!_   I’m not some little frilly girl to seduce and use for your own pleasure, I am a _full-blooded American woman_ and I _demand satisfaction!!_ ”, she said loudly, though she said it with a grin.  “Now _kiss me,_ Zhanno, you _commie stud_!”  She clearly didn’t need to repeat that: with an impatient huff, Zhanno covered her lips with his own, impatiently rolling his hips against her yet again, showing that he’d enjoyed their proximity.  As they parted, he looked at her again with half-lidded eyes and nodded.

“Little American woman will get satisfaction.  Many satisfaction.”

“You’re damn right I will- _ooh yeah…_ ” Jane’s hands inched their way over Zhanno’s bare shoulders as he kissed down her neck hungrily, grinding his growing erection against her bare leg again.  The feeling of his lips pressing on the surprisingly tender skin of her neck had her groan and dig her hands through his hair, enjoying the luscious feel of it as the strands slipped between her fingers.  “Ah, Zhanno, you’re _good_.  _Very good_ for a man that’s living miles away from any woman.”

“I had many years to plan this, little American woman-”

“Don’t call me that!  Call me _Jane_ , because I am NOT little, _do you understand_?  If you’re going to use pet names, go with _cupcake_ or something _decent!_ ”, she ground out, her words somewhat nullified by the movement of her leg that wrapped itself around his, pulling her against him and rubbing his hairy leg against her own unshaven lower limbs, causing static electricity to crackle between them.  Or _some_ kind of electricity, at least.  It had to be, because it crawled over and into her skin via her pores, danced in her muscles to make them ache, and then seeped via her blood into her heart to make its rhythm falter.

“...Will not call you ‘cupcake’, you are not candy for Zhanno to eat.”, the man said, grinning as Jane muttered ‘too right I’m not’ - and then, his lips wandered to her clavicle and he gently suckled on a pulse-point there and she couldn’t help but gasp and arch her back off the mattress of this Russian temptor’s bed, pressing her body right into his touch and his lips.

“ _Dear mother of God…!_ ”

“...You taste sweet.  Like honey.  Should call you ‘honey’.  This is _American_ name for woman, no?”, Zhanno said with the most indulgent grin she’d ever seen on a man, and all she could think about was how well it suited him and how she wished she could etch the moment in her brain permanently.  Or the next moment, when he nipped his way down to her cleavage and then licked his way up again.  “You taste little bit like bear, too, moya malen'kaya medveditsa-”

“What’s that?”, she asked, and Zhanno looked up just as she looked down - the sight and sensation of him, his hands on her waist and his goatee just barely prickling her midriff, made the question sound a little more heated as she repeated it, only for him to chuckle and nuzzle her left breast.

“My little she-bear.  You taste like bear and honey, and you growl like bear.  Is good for a woman.  Be _strong_!”

“I snapped the neck of a bear with my bare hands, Zhanno, all while nearly naked and covered in honey!”, she said, sounding appropriately proud - her renewed resolve to make herself a medal for the feat faltered and then died away completely in favor of blinding pleasure as Zhanno wrapped his lips around her nipple and none too gently lavished attention on it.  “ _Ah sweet Lady Liberty…!_ ”

“Is good, no?”, he asked as he once more impatiently ground his erection against her leg, to which she responded only by tangling her hands again in his hair and pressing his face right against her bosom again: he got the hint and started licking slow, teasing circles around her nipple, alternating it with nips at the now tingling mound of flesh that seemed to be connected by a strand of nerves to some kind of switch inside of her that switched her brain off while her own arousal was burning like a bonfire.  “Mmmh, gde zhe ty byl vsyu moyu zhizn', vas potryasayushchaya zhenshchina?”, he muttered as he moved over to her other breast to repeat the same demanding and mind-blowing treatment - Jane couldn’t get her lips to properly cooperate while he did so, but as soon as he detached, she spoke in a breathless voice that sounded slightly hoarse from the heaving breaths she’d had to take.

“W-what did you say there, Zhanno?  My Russian’s a little _not there at all_ , sweetheart.”  For a second, Zhanno looked up at her, surprise clear on his features: then, slowly, a grin broke on his face again - a warm and thankful grin at that, a moment of genuine warmth in the bubble of lust they were both conjuring up around themselves - and he spoke jarringly, hiding every moment of having to search for the right word by placing a kiss on her stomach, venturing just a fraction of an inch lower each time.

“I said, where did you... be all my life, you… great, great woman?  Zhanno has always... wanted to make the love… he never thought he would feel this… this _elektrichestvo..._ ”  The soldier didn’t need him to translate _that_ word - she knew he meant electricity, and she knew what he meant by it as well.

“Mnn, likewise.”, Jane admitted in a whisper.  True, she’d been with a few men in her lifetime, mostly in the army or while she was travelling around as a one-man army in Europe during the war... but none of those experiences had had the same feel as she had right here, right now, watching the expression of this strong Russian man - the fact that he was a commie and that she was supposed to hate him was the furthest thing from her mind right now - who was doing things to her that no other man, no matter how hard they’d tried, had _ever_ achieved.  “Zhanno…”

“Jane.”  Her name had never sounded so luscious and heated and _heavenly_ to her own ears, and after it came a kiss pressed on the skin right over her panties, making the desire he was conjuring up within her flare again and tenderness give way to need in a single beat of their hearts.

“You want _love-makin’_ , Zhanno, you’d better remove that underwear, or by God -!”, she said, and he shrugged - _he shrugged!_ \- and took off her panties quickly, at which point he kissed further down, across her pubes and then, nuzzling his face into the wild sand-colored curls that hid her nethers, he kissed her privates and it was unlike anything she’d ever felt.  No other man had ever _kissed_ her down there.  Touched, yes; invaded, sure… but _kissed_?  “Zhanno, ahh, _Zhanno_ …”, she ground out, tangling her hand into his hair once more.

“You like this, Jane?”, he asked - he didn’t take his lips off her labia, and she could feel the words form, his exhale making the sensitive skin of her nethers tingle as if they were being stroked with downy feathers.  Something electrical ran up her spine and fire sprung down from her heart in answer, making her groan out her response rather than merely speak it.

“Oh, _yesss…_ ”

“Good.  I like this also.”  No sooner had he said those words than he licked roughly over the soldier’s privates, making her moan and push her head back into the pillow.  “Ahh, you taste more like _you_ here.  Not bear, not honey, just _you_.  I like it.”, he said, once again nuzzling into her sand-colored pubes while continuing to drag his tongue in slow but rough licks over her genitals.  It made her hips feel jittery, she found, and unconsciously she started rolling them demandingly into his touch.

“ _Zhanno, oh, Zhanno…_ ”, she ground out happily, feeling hungry and satisfied all at once.  “Oh Lord have mercy…”, the soldier gasped, trying to focus her attention away from the mind-blowing and perfect treatment her Russian lover was giving her: but every slightest sigh, every movement of his calloused fingers on her thighs, every least _twitch_ of his tongue had her attention spiral back to him and to the fire that he was stoking inside of her.  Stoking so high… stoking _too high_ , even.  She could feel her body clench up, muscles contracting in places where she didn’t even _know_ she had them, her every fiber winding up for a release that was brought about solely by this man and the way his lips and his tongue were working to bring her to a high she didn’t yet want to be at, not without him being firmly embedded inside of her, as he should be.   “Zhanno, damn it, s-stop…”

“Why need to stop?”  Once again, he didn’t move his mouth from her privates, and the feel of his breath on her swollen labia nearly pushed her over the edge but she dug the chipped, rough edges of her fingernails in her palms and counterbalanced the pleasure with just enough pain to get her to respond without sounding like a quivering mess of a woman.

“ _Get back up here_ and _take me properly, damn it_.”  It still sounded like she was right up there, still sounded like begging for the end, but it did the trick: Zhanno gave one final kiss on her privates and then discarded his own silky boxershorts, showing just how kind Mother Russia had blessed this particular son of hers.

“Alright, but will not be gentle, Jane.”, he said, covering her body with his own, pausing just long enough for her to reply to his statement breathlessly and needfully.

“If I wanted it gentle, I wouldn’t be here, sweetheart-”  Zhanno had clearly been waiting for her to say just that: with a single roll of his hips, he entered her, causing the soldier’s breath to hitch and her heart to stop for a single glorious second of unfiltered pleasure.  He was big, bigger than any man she’d been with so far, but she took him as though he was tailor-made for her - at any other time, that would’ve been a _romantic_ thought to her, to ponder that a man out there would slot in with her like a key fitting a lock, but now it was just an aside to the pleasure that plucked at her wound up nerves as if they were harp strings.  Then, as he pulled back to thrust into her again, her body restarted and she exhaled shakily, the haze of pleasure subsiding a little and the fire in her core lashing out again, licking at her skin and her nethers to make them feel like she was glowing with sexual energy.  “Good God, yeah…”

“Will not be gentle.”, Zhanno repeated, half-warningly but half-enticingly, his hands right next to her shoulders and his breath tickling her ear and the side of her neck.  “Have such need, such want, for making the love to you-”

“Me too, Zhanno, _take me_ , take me _hard_ like you want to!”, she ground out, gasping when he rolled his hips into her with force, and then again, and again, driving into her and making her groan a little more loudly with each thrust.  “Ahh _Christ_ , you call this hard, you Russki _god_?!”, she barked out to him, trying to negate the tension that was once again growing inside of her like a storm building, “I’ve seen _ladies_ that could go harder tha- _oh mother of God!_ ”  Her threatening growl ended in a heated whimper when Zhanno took her words to heart and thrust in hard enough for their hips to smack together audibly, the feel of him embedded to the hilt within her making the fire inside of her _roar_.  “Shit, it’s no use…  So close, _s-so close_ , Zhanno… oh my Zhanno… _don’t stop, shit, don’t stop taking me hard, ju-just like that…_ ”

“D-da, ya ryadom, a takzhe... _davay, davay..._ ”  She had no idea what he was saying, nor did she get to ask him about it: he thrust into her harshly and the fire in her loins burnt from her mind all that wasn’t him and the sweet friction so deep inside her that he brought.  Vaguely, she was aware that he, too, reached his end, but even _that_ felt distant.

It took her surprisingly long to wind down again.  That was another first, she mused, breathing out shakily - an endeavor that was made just a little harder by the way Zhanno had slumped on top of her - because normally she’d almost immediately put her underwear back on and had walked off without so much as a ‘thanks’.  Men were weak, wanting to know whether it was good.  Needing confirmation.

“...God, that was amazing, Zhanno…”, she said, looking him over.  For a man that had been full of fire only a minute before, he sure looked gentle now: as he lifted his head, revealing just how messy his hair had become, his eyes showed a fire that was more subdued.

“Ah, da, was amazing, Jane.”  There it was again, that lilt in his tone as he spoke her name, that sense of belonging.  No other man had ever spoken those four simple letters with such warmth, such need, such… such _rightful appropriation_.  He said her name like saying it made her his.  And that was a problem, because Heavy - _Mika_ \- was his _sister_.  She’d just gone ahead and slept with her fellow mercenary’s younger brother, the same younger brother she’d always spoken of so lovingly.  The same younger brother she’d done unspeakable things for, to protect him.  She was _so dead_.  “Kak ya mogu otpustit' vas seychas, dorogaya? Eto byl ne prosto seks, eto bylo bol'she. Chert poberi, ya ne khochu, chtoby ty opyat', Dzheyn…”

“...I… Zhanno, I don’t understand what you said there, but damn it, this…”  She meant to speak disapprovingly, to him and to herself, for letting desire lead them into a very difficult situation, but suddenly she felt a strong, muscular arm wrap itself around her waist and keep her close as her lover rolled off her.  It wasn’t a tight, possessive hold but a more loose one, however, and his eyes showed sadness more than anger.

“Jane, making the love, you think this was wrong?”, he asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“There’s a million reasons to regret it.”

“You… regret it?”, he asked, sounding upset and mournful - that prompted her to sigh and consider her options.  She _should_ regret it.  She probably _would_ regret it, oh, would she ever.  But she didn’t actually _regret it_.  In fact, she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, and not just to feel that sense of completion again.

“I don’t regret _you_ , Zhanno, and I don’t regret the love-making.  But I regret the _hunger_.  ...Damn it, making love is supposed to _mean something_!  Not just shoving your privates into mine and fucking like animals!”

“You are not animal, Jane-”, he said, looking at her in confusion, but rather than correct him, she spoke on, venting her annoyance at the entire situation.

“Neither are you, Zhanno, but _we behaved like animals!_ Damn it, Mika is going to pound me into the ground for taking advantage of you!”

“Mika will not dare - and you did not advantage me, is not taking advantage if you want more than just make sex together!”, Zhanno said, pulling the soldier a little closer and appreciatively allowing his eyes to rove her form even though she didn’t see the meaning of those gestures just yet, or fully comprehend what he meant, focused as she was on her own mental turmoil.

“I should have turned you away, Zhanno, and now it’s too late for that.  Now it’s too late for _anything_.  Now it’s too late to get you out of my _head_ again.  Damn it, Jane Doe, you _had_ to go ahead and-”  Suddenly, Zhanno tilted her chin up and kissed her, deeply and yet slowly, savoringly, parting her lips with his tongue with patience and then huffing out a relieved breath against her cheek as she threw herself into the kiss just as she’d done before.  Only this time, she didn’t kiss him with hunger as much.  For the first time, she could properly appreciate the taste of him.  He tasted like beer on a summer afternoon, with just a hint of honey and something else sticky and sweet that had to be her own taste - he _had_ spent a fair while down there pleasuring her.  When he pulled away, after what felt like too short of a kiss, he ran his hand from her shoulder to her buttock and then back, grinning somewhat sappily at her.

“Jane Doe.  _Jane Doe_.  Is good name for my… na moy lyubovnitsey. Net, moya _devushka_.  You are not… you are not woman I make sex with.  You are woman I _belong_ with.  _My_ woman.  _My Jane_.”  Every word had the soldier’s heart swell, even the Russian part she didn’t understand.  Instinctively and by his tone, she grasped what he meant, and when he spoke those final four words, it sounded like gospel to her and she drank it in.  Her name could never sound more reverent, more heartstopping, than when it fell from this perfect Russian man’s lips.

“Oh, Zhanno, _my Zhanno_ …”, she sighed, grinning just as he did right before kissing him again, letting her hands wander over his shoulders and chest even though they were pressed together too tightly to give her much space to explore.  When she lacked the will to detach even the slightest bit from him, enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed together as though superglued onto each other, she instead traced the muscles of his shoulder and upper arm with the fingertips of one hand while the other tangled once again in his thick, luscious hair.  “From this day forward, any woman that looks twice at you and that isn’t Mika is _dead!_ ”, she said commandingly in between kisses, and Zhanno nodded.

“No man may look at you.  Not even once.  You belong to Zhanno now, Jane.”

“Amen, sweetheart.”, she said, kissing him again and tangling her lower limbs with his.  She could feel every last inch of his body pressing against hers, feeling like it was made for that purpose - making her feel like she was made for him.  This man, this Siberian bundle of muscles and heart and _sweet, sweet satisfaction_ , made her feel things that she supposed nuns felt about God: belonging, contentment, fierce dedication.

As she felt him roll his hips against her, making her take heed of the fact that he’d once again gotten hard from the friction they’d been conjuring up languidly kissing and touching each other, she amended her previous thought, because God _certainly_ didn’t do to those nuns what Zhanno and her were poised to do.  Again.  This time, it didn’t feel as animal and lust-driven as before, though: when Zhanno looked her over, she could tell that it’d be tender and fulfilling in different ways.

“Mogu li ya zanyat'sya s toboy lyubov'yu snova, moy vozlyublennyy?”, he asked, nuzzling her shoulder and shivering ever so lightly.  Jane caught herself thinking that he was just perfect and aimed a quick prayer up at God to pardon her for enjoying this man so much and to ask Him to never take him away from her again.  “ _Jane, devushka_ , we make love again, da?  Make love _right_ this time, da?”

“You even have to ask?  Bring us together again, Zhanno.”, she pleaded unabashedly - they moved in unison, sliding against each other to accomodate one another, moaning lightly when Zhanno took possesion of her once again.  “Ahh, _yeah, sweetheart_ … you feel like you were _made_ for me…”, she admitted, arching into his touches as he gently moved within her, in stark contrast to his ardor of before.  He still made her heart ache with how perfectly they meshed together, an ache more sweet and heavenly than anything she’d ever done before that moment had brought, and when he answered she knew that he felt the same way.

“Vam namerevalis' byli Moi, Dzheyn, tol'ko moi.  Is _right_ that it feels this way… ahh, moy devushka, vas chuvstvovat' sebya _tak khoroshaya_ …”, he groaned, shallowly thrusting into her, kissing her shoulder before looking into her eyes again and moaning her name.  “ _Jane_ , ahh…”

“Zhanno, baby, please…”, she said, gasping as he thrust into her just as deep as he had before, only this time not as hard and fast.  The friction of his length inside of her was making her drag her hands down his back to his behind so she could arch her back up into him, kissing his shoulder as he did the same to her, his hands impatiently dragging over her hips and her upper legs as he pushed again and again into her, muttering in Russian mingled with English how gorgeous and how perfect she was.  “ _Oh god…_ ”

“Ya lyublyu tebya, _o, Dzheyn_ , ya _tak tebya lyublyu_ , moya dorogaya, _moya devushka_....!”, the man ground out, breathing heavily as his hips sped up.  Jane felt the same tension take hold of her again, release edging closer like the tide coming in small waves upon the shore: she tried to warn Zhanno but each attempt ended in a gasp as his thrusts stole the words right from her lips and in the end she found herself resorting to dragging her hands up his back to his shoulders, looking at her lover in an attempt to wordlessly convey to him how close she was once again to release.  And when she met his eyes, he looked at her with the same urgence, clearly balancing on the same edge as she was.  “Akh _chert voz'mi, Dzheyn, da_ …!”

All she could manage was his name as she gripped him tight whichever way she could and reached her peak together with him.

“ _Ah, Zhanno!_ ”  Her body and his moved as synchronously as before, but this time it wasn’t just fulfilling: this time, it was rapture.  The fire inside of her didn’t consume her, instead welding her and Zhanno together in ways that felt permanent even if he slipped out of her again after a minute of silence only filled by their trying to catch their breath.  Jane could feel their mingled bodily fluids trickle out of her slowly, a wet patch growing on the bedsheets beneath her, but she could care less about how sticky she felt all of a sudden, or the way her stomach growled.  When Zhanno moved clumsily to lay by her side again, grinning indulgently at her, she grinned back.

“Moy prekrasnyy golubushka… my Jane, my love…”

“Mmmhmm…”, she muttered, basking in the way his calloused hand now lightly trailed over her side, slowly mirroring the gesture.  “That was amazing, sweetheart.  Perfect.  I mean, even if you’re a commie.  ...Well, _screw_ that - you’re my boyfriend now so that makes you an _honorary American!_ ”, she added, causing the man to chuckle and shake his head.

“I assure you, devushka - _honey_ \- that I am happy to be honorary American.  Will eat hotdogs and watch baseball with you together to celebrate, da?”  The picture of dragging Zhanno to see a baseball game, both clutching as many hotdogs as they could carry, made Jane smile broadly and nod.

“Agreed!  Now, maybe I should freshen up… or eat…”, she added as an afterthought when her stomach growled again.  And then, Zhanno spoke and further proved to her that he was indeed the perfect man for her.

“We do both.  Together.”

 

“...Holy freakin’ crap, when are they evah gonna stop?!”, Scout said when barely muffled laughter and moans exited from the hallway, and Mika groaned.  The only one that seemed unfazed - or even _utterly unaware_ \- was Pyro, who had been looking at the mounted bear head on the wall with grim satisfaction, for some reason.  Another bout of moaning issued from the bathroom, and the Heavy Weapons Gal glared in the general direction of the room where her brother and Jane were misbehaving.

“Zhanno is dead.  Jane, I will have talk to, woman to tiny baby woman-”  Another sharp moan, clearly _not_ the soldier, broke the silence, and the Heavy ominously cracked her knuckles.  “ _Both_ of them are dead.”

“O, net, Mika, pust' oni budut. Razve vy nikogda ne lyubil nikogo?”, her father said as he put the last of the potatoes on the table, smiling and shaking his head when the hallway quieted again save for a few louder-than-necessary words and soft affectionate laughter issuing from behind the closed doors.  The Heavy’s set jaw and narrowed eyes, however, didn’t soften even the least bit.

“Oni vedut sebya kak zhivotnyye.  I am just thinking, who better to talk to first?”

“Whoa-whoa, big sistah… ya say ‘talk to’ like ya fists are gonna do tha speakin’...”, Scout said, and now Heavy’s Father put his large and surprisingly weathered-looking hands on his sole daughter’s.

“Tvoy brat ne znayut nichego luchshego.”, he said kindly, but still the hulking woman did not want to calm down.

“Libo on vlyublen v neye, a zatem mne nuzhno pogovorit' s nimi kak o brosayutsya vokrug, kak, chto, ili on ne vlyublen v neye, a zatem ya dolzhen budu ubit' Dzheyn-”, she started, only for her father to gently squeeze her hands and shake his head.

“Ona zanimayet dva, chtoby zanyat'sya lyubov'yu, Mika. Lyubov' krasivaya veshch'. I zhelaniye eto prosto... zhelaniye.”  Then, he added in soft and jarring English: “Making love is not sin, Mika, it is _human_.  And your brother… Zhanno… looks rough like bear-”

“Yeah, ya can say _that_ again…”, the scout muttered under her breath, something that neither Mika or her father heard.

“-but has heart of snow.  Heart that _melts_ easily.  Maybe this Dzheyn, she has melted his heart.”

“...Jane has hard heart.  Messy head, and heart of barbed wire.”, Mika protested, but now, her younger teammate saw an opportunity to interject and give her input on the matter without getting an eye blacked or a tooth knocked out in the process.

“Solly Jane?  Aw, Mika, ya nevah really _really_ looked.  She’s soft like Delly’s Teddy if ya look right!  An’ she was _laughin’_ with that Zhanno dude, yeah?  Didn’t sound like she was just fu-”  Suddenly, the scout was grabbed roughly by the front of her shirt and pulled closer to the Russian woman, who spoke threateningly to her.

“Pick next words _carefully,_ little baby woman, Zhanno is _youngest brother_ to me.”

“...N-nevahmind, forget I said anything, big girl!”, the runner squeaked out, wincing as Mika let her go.

 

“Papochka!  U nas poymal uzhina!”  A drift of snow and freezing cold wind preceded the two men and their prize inside the house - both were well into their twenties, approaching their thirties even, but both looked diametrically opposite.  The younger of the two had ash-blonde hair that quirkily peeked out from underneath the front of his woollen cap, looking like a younger male version of the Heavy Weapons Gal, while the older of the two had dark hair with some silvery streaks interweaved that showed from beneath a heavier cap, making him look like a younger version of his father.  It was the older one, whose face was most serene and imperturbable, who spoke up second, his voice even and even slightly annoyed.

“Eto mishku. Snova.”  Then, both men halted, looking at the set table in confusion, dropping the dead bear they’d tied to a pole.

“Mika, dorogaya sestra, chto eto takoye? Pochemu vam poymat' medvedya, kogda vy znali, chto my byli na okhote?”, the youngest of the two brothers said, looking utterly dumbfounded, causing the Heavy to run a hand across her face.

“Eto ne byl zaplanirovan, Ivan…”  She then heard a door opening and closing and the footsteps of Zhanno and Jane approaching and she sighed, changing track instantly: …”no ya ob"yasnyu eto pozzhe. V nastoyashcheye vremya, u nas yest' kompaniya. Nekotoryye zhenshchin, kotorykh ya rabotal s nakhodites' zdes'-”

“Razve?”, her two brothers instantly reacted, grinning as they probably imagined their personal favorites from the descriptions she’d sent home.  However, right at that moment, Jane loudly and unabashedly announced her return.

“Hello, Heavy’s other brothers!”  Heavy had to bite her lip not to instantly start shouting her head off at the woman she’d fought alongside, who was wearing one of her brother’s pyjamas that gave her a rather impressive cleavage and that looked just as tight around _her_ biceps than it had around her brother’s - and Zhanno, whether by design or coincidence, wore a suspiciously well-matching set of nightwear.  Jane, however, didn’t even notice Heavy’s reaction, instead taking Zhanno’s arm and wrapping it around herself, answering and obliterating at least a part of Mika’s worries that she and her brother had been mindlessly indulging themselves with one another.  The soldier then added with the broadest, happiest grin the Heavy had yet seen on the stoic soldier’s face: “I have a boyfriend now, sorry to disappoint you!”

“Yeah, an’ I’m kinda taken, boys, so sorry in advance.”, Scout added - Pyro didn’t look up from the dishtowel she or he was clutching which was slowly starting to smoulder and then burn, completely oblivious to the devastated and thoroughly upset look that the two men had.  In the end, it was Heavy’s father that resolved the situation with uncanny tact.

“Let us all eat, then finally Mika’s friends can talk to her about why they came here…”  The group migrated to the dinnertable - Heavy’s two hunter brothers shed their heavy coats, hats, scarves and mittens before joining them.  Instantly, the first point of order became clear.

“Zhanno, Jane, _please_!”  The soldier was nearly sitting on her brother’s lap and feeding him his food - her outburst, however, only made Zhanno ostensibly turn his back on her and feed Jane her next morsel of food, and the soldier grinned happily, clearly absorbed in the closeness of the man she’d only just met.  Pyro sighed and huffed something through the mask that sounded an awful lot like ‘aww’, causing Mika to recognise that particular battle as lost and turning her to the next issue at hand.  “...Khorosho… Scout, why-”  It felt like the wispy woman had been _waiting_ for her to finally ask about the reason of her and the others’ visit, because she instantly started talking.

“Oh, Heavy, ya ain’t got no idea what’s been happenin’ since we got discharged, girl!  All _kinds_ ’a weird stuff!  Like, _grade A weird_!  Long story short, mistah Pauling’s gettin’ the old team, like, back togetha - an’ that means _you_ , too.  He needs our help, an’ sistah, _we_ need _your help_.  There weren’t nobody bettah than you at makin’ our enemies piss their frilly panties-”

“Net.”  The word was spoken simply, but with a lifetime of regret and weariness behind it.  Jane and Scout looked at their Russian fellow mercenary in surprise, causing her to repeat: “Net.  I have duty here, to papochka, to brothers.  Must protect _them_ now.  Have… have let them down enough in the past.  If I leave… net.  I will not go.  This is end of discussion.  You will leave in the morning-”  Suddenly, the eldest of her two brothers slammed his fist down on the table, causing everyone at the table to turn to him in surprise.

“No, sestritsa.  This is _not_ end of discussion.  You feel it is your duty to stay here and protect us?  You _have_ protected us, all our lives, sestritsa.  We all cannot thank you enough for this.  All that you have done for us, have let go for us… we can never repay you.  So please, dorogaya Mika, do not take this wrong way now.  I am- no, we are all so _yebanyy zakonchit'_ of all of this - the snow, the cabin, the bear meat every single night…”

“...Ooh, family argument… think I’ll use the bathroom right now, Zhanno, sweetheart…”, Jane muttered quietly, at which point her new boyfriend readily let her go to turn to her brother - but once outside the dining room, Jane leaned against the wall, out of sight from the others that were too absorbed in the discussion, which was kicking off in earnest when Mika spoke in a hushed tone.

“Ivan, Bronislav, Zhanno… I know it is difficult.  Eto nelegko za menya, libo.  But the people that came, that took our mother away from us and _hurt_ us… the people that put us in that horrible place… there will always be more like them.  I must keep them away from you-”

“Mika, vy net nasha mama, vy ne mozhete zashchitit' nas vse vremya!”, the eldest of the three brothers said - and then, much more soft-spoken, the middle one of the three spoke.

“Mika… while you were in America… men did come here.”

“ _Chto?!_   What do you mean, Ivan?”  Mika asked, her tone urgent and utterly surprised, and Ivan paused for a second, licking his lips carefully before speaking on.

“We did not want to worry you - we know how worried you can get, Mikya.”  For ten agonizingly long seconds, everything was silent as the Heavy Weapons Gal looked at her siblings in shock.  Not even Pyro dared breathe, it seemed.  Then, she exhaled and spoke slowly.

“...I see.  You… probably did not make them suffer.”  Now, it was Zhanno who answered, his voice laden with dark, unambiguous ardor - Jane’s heart leapt up and she pressed herself more tightly against the wall to remind herself not to speak up in pride just yet.

“Oh, Mika… we did, sestritsa.  Ya obeshchayu tebe - I _promise_ you.”

“You are just saying this so I will not be upset more.”, Mika said, and Zhanno’s voice became smooth as silk and yet ardent as Pyro’s previous assault on the third of the bears that had sought the three mercenaries out.

“Ya _klyanus' tebe_ \- I swear, Mikya, they died like the filth they are, their screams echoed around the mountain and then returned to their own ears to die.  You would have been proud, sestritsa.  You have taught us so well.”

“...I see…”  Mika bent her head, looking at her empty plate to hide the sudden shock of not being needed anymore by those she loved most.  “...Vanya, Zhannya, Bronislavka… guess you are all grown up men now.  Men who don’t need big, bossy Mika around to keep them safe like she used to do.”

“Aw, Mika, you’re our big sister… you’ll _always_ fuss over us, and look out for us and fight for us, i u nas vsegda budu lyubit' tebya nezhno po etoy prichine. But you’ll also have to let us fight for ourselves.”, Ivan said, smiling - Jane smiled as well, imagining the look on the Heavy’s face, and finally headed on to the toilet.

“...This mission…”, Mika asked the youngest of her former colleagues, rolling her eyes as she heard Jane’s footsteps finally head to the bathroom.  “...It will be dangerous?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, sure!”, she assured him, grinning faintly.

“And it pays well?”

“Oh, uh, mistah Pauling didn’t discuss da details, but if it’s like tha otha missions, then yeah, it pays real well!”, she assured him quickly - Mika nearly berated the young woman for not knowing whether the job paid well before accepting it, but then she remembered how smitten the girl was with the administrative liaison and she merely sighed before asking her follow-up question.

“But there will be evil men?”

“Oh, _sure_ , there are gonna be _tons_ of ‘em!”

“And we will destroy them, da?”

“Da- I mean, _heck yeah_!!”  Mika leaned back in her seat, nodding slowly and taking a deep breath before booming out triumphantly.

“Then Heavy will _fight puny evil men!_   If not for profit, then for _fun_!”

“Ura!!”, Ivan cheered, and instantly Mika’s other two brothers Zhanno and Bronislav joined in - when Jane returned, grinning broadly and adding her two cents to the mix, everyone laughed lightly.

“Hooray!  I’m back from the bathroom and everyone is happy!!”  Mika laughed along, but in the meantime her eyes went to her father, whose face showed relief and joy at seeing his children’s spirits lifted - he moved into the kitchen, leaving Mika to look at her brothers as they eagerly started planning their getaway.

“Oh, I’m going to Paris!  Always wanted to see why they call it ‘city of light’!”, Bronislav said, grinning, while Ivan was a little more subdued though not by much.

“I want to go to New York, see the country that Mika called ‘home’ when he was not with me-”  Zhanno looked like he was going to agree with his youngest brother until Jane took his hand and squeezed it hard.

“Forget about those _crapholes_ , darlin’, let’s go to _America_!”  The man scratched through the hair on his chin as he contemplated that thought, speaking up a second later.

“...But you told me you live in stink-barn, Jane, devushka.”  She chuckled and shook her head.

“Stink-barn?  Nah, _better_ , I’m homeless.  My home is wherever I want it to be!”  Then, she smiled warmly at the man that had taken her heart by storm, and added: “But I promise, with the money of this job, we’re gettin’ the biggest, stinkiest barn we can find!”

“Job?  What job?”, he asked, and she grinned.

“Well, sweetheart, a _dirty_ job.  A job that’ll mean snapping a few necks and maybe some rockets and explosions…”  Zhanno looked enraptured the more she spoke, so she found herself eagerly divulging the details of the job to him, grinning all the while.

 

“Oh… Moi chada vozlyublennyye, vsem ukhodit ... YA upakovany vam nekotoryye medvezhatinu dlya poyezdki-”  Heavy saw her father appear back from the kitchen with a neatly tied package, and instantly her heart felt light and heavy, warm and cold at the same time.  She was leaving, as were her brothers… but her father did not understand yet, it seemed, that their plan to get away included him.  So selfless was the man that he wished them the best, even if it meant having to miss them.  In two great steps, she was standing next to her father, whose weathered face showed the most joyful smile she’d seen on it yet, a smile that only grew in both joy and warmth as she hugged him.

“Papochka… ty poydesh' s nami. I ya obeshchayu, chto vy nikogda ne budete imet', chtoby poyest' medvezhatinu snova.  You come _with_ us to America, or to where you wish to go, and from now on you eat _good_ food.”

“Oh, Mika…”, the man said, moved to tears by his only daughter’s words, wrapping his arms around her tall, bulky form surprisingly tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> ...So in my research, I found out Zhanna is actually the Russian equivalent of Jane, how funny is that! (Or was it intentional? Hello Valve? Care to clarify?) That's why I wanted to keep Zhanna's name intact (or at least kept close to that) and why I didn't change our solly's name along with gender.
> 
> Also, a great many thanks go out to sinuswave (because she was the main inspirator for this) and to trossidevil (because she is an inspirator to everything I write that's TF2). Check them out on deviantart! Read up on them! Shower them with luv and cupcakes!


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